Still River
Page 28
“Who had access—” I stopped and mentally slapped myself on the forehead. The people he ministered to were not exactly pillars of the community.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Linville’s eyes glowed with alcohol, watery yet intense. “Only one other person had keys to my office.”
“What’s his name?” I got out a pen and grabbed a cocktail napkin from a pile by the beer taps.
“How do you know it was a he?”
I sighed. “Okay. What was her name?”
“Oh, never mind. He was my assistant.” Linville rubbed the bridge of his nose, his voice now sounding distant. “Carlos. He didn’t come to work today.”
“Last name?”
“Jimenez.”
The old guy on the other side of me erupted into a fit of coughing, his chest cavity sounding like a tin can full of gravel. When his wheezing subsided I said, “How long has he worked for you?”
“Must be six months now.” Linville drained his beer. “Started as a court-ordered DWI thing. He’s been clean ever since.”
I fanned away a cloud of smoke from Mr. Emphysema’s fresh cigarette. “Where does Carlos live?”
“A boarding house. In Oak Cliff.” Linville grabbed my pen and scribbled something on the cocktail napkin. His hand trembled as he slid the paper in my direction.
I put the information in my pocket but didn’t say anything.
“Discretion is—” Linville covered his mouth with one hand and hiccoughed. “Uh … imperative. That’s why I didn’t call the police.”
I mentioned my fee. He produced an already-made-out check. The amount was for a week’s worth of my time, a sum of money incongruous with the man’s shabby appearance. He described Carlos. Overweight, Hispanic. Mid-twenties. A tattoo of the Virgin Mary on his left arm.
A shaft of sunlight penetrated the darkened room as the front door opened and two people entered. Mr. Emphysema coughed a couple of times and spat something on the floor. He ordered an Absolut Martini, one hundred proof, straight up. I debated taking up smoking again.
“One more question for now,” I said. “Why haven’t you tried to track down Carlos yourself ?”
“My work demands a lot of time. And …” Linville stood and looked at two men who had just entered. “I believe certain people mean me harm.”
I stood also. The two newcomers flanked out, their attention plainly focused on Linville and me. Their hands were balled into fists. Everything about their demeanor screamed attack.
“Oh dear.” Linville’s face drained of color. “Now I’ve got you involved.”
The larger of the two produced a semi-automatic pistol from a pocket. He started toward us.
STILL RIVER
Copyright © 2005 by Harry Hunsicker.
Excerpt from The Next Time You Die © 2006 by Harry Hunsicker.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
Cover photo by Peter A. Calvin.
eISBN 9781429905671
First eBook Edition : December 2011
EAN: 80312-94090-4
St. Martin’s Press hardcover edition / May 2005
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / July 2006